Reminiscent Present
by BehindTheSky
Summary: Concentration camp AU, 1943. Sometimes, there is a light in the darkest places. ONESHOT. Forgive minor historical inaccuracies, the plot required it. Reviews would be absolutely wonderful !


**A/N**

SO Here is the random oneshot that I decided I had to write~

Beta-ed by SilverFireworks

Warnings: It's set in a WWII concentration camp 1943…go from there….

Gilbert first saw her when he was loaded onto the carts, packed shoulder to shoulder with countless other people he had never met before. She still held herself tall, despite the apparent hopelessness of the situation, brown hair falling to her waist and green eyes examining all.

The officers shoved person after person into the train, uncaring about gender or age as the multitude of bodies were pressed up against each other. The woman was forcefully shoved into the train compartment that Gilbert himself was in, though she was herded into the middle, where he had been one of the first people on and was pressed against the wall. Gilbert couldn't see her over the heads of those taller, but he occasionally heard a distinctively female voice that he pinpointed to be hers. She sounded as though she was comforting somebody, though whether it was a small child or a grown man, Gilbert couldn't tell. They all needed something right now.

The train jerked to a start, but it was impossible for anybody to move it was packed so tightly. The doors slid closed with an ominous clack, and it was basically nighttime inside the train. The only sounds that filled the area after that was the occasional whisper, or whimper of somebody stuck in an uncomfortable position.

Gilbert didn't know how long the train went for, and by the time it stopped all he knew was that his legs were numb and he wasn't quite sure what country he was in anymore. The doors slid open, uniformed soldiers that Gilbert couldn't see yelling into the darkness. Gilbert heard a scared squeal and a thud, followed by a few more. Sounded as though not everybody had made the trip. Gilbert shifted uncomfortably, he couldn't tell whether any of the people around him were still breathing or not, but he really didn't want to spend the rest of the trip with some dead guy leaning on him.

Gilbert saw a few moments of sky before the doors slid closed again. He distinctively remembered the instructions given by the German soldiers, run, you get shot on sight.

Disturbingly enough, most of the 'passengers' seemed to welcome the less-cramped environment, now that a few people had been killed off. It would take years, but Gilbert would eventually also admit to himself that he had appreciated it too, his back wasn't as quite as uncomfortable as before, and he actually had room to breath.

More and more passengers were weeded out as the days went by, and the 'train' became progressively more dirty, and smelled worse that a cow barn. Gilbert just tried not to think about it.

The most shocking even of the ride, after getting as used as one could be to the deaths by pressure, was when a tall German soldier climbed into the cart and forcefully pried a child who couldn't have been more than six out of it's wailing mothers arms. It, as it was so thin and had hair so short Gilbert couldn't tell what gender it was, screamed and kicked against the officer as it was grabbed by the neck and dragged out of the cart. The doors quickly slammed shut, though not before the mother got one arm outside the cart.

Her screams drowned out the yelling of both her child and the orders of the guards.

Three days later, they arrived at wherever they were going. Nobody still quite believed what had happened to them, and were denying every suggestion that was made. The woman who had been separated from her child had died a day before, from infection, blood loss, or insanity, Gilbert would never know.

Now there was enough room in the cart for the few left to sit, all uncaring about whatever dirt and other things covered the floor.

She was still there. Dirtier and more unkempt that before, granted, still every bit as straight-backed as before. Her eyes seemed a few shades darker, also, after seeing what they had. Gilbert wondered what her past was.

"Hey."

She started, having obviously been lost in a world of her own. Remembering relatives, maybe. Lovers, possibly. She stared at him blankly. Maybe she didn't speak German, though his thoughts of that were banished when she replied, quietly.

"What?" Her voice was slightly accented, obviously not German.

"I'm Gilbert." The few other passengers looked at the duo sitting opposite each other warily, as most of them had remained silent for the ride.

She glared at him for a moment before replying. "Elizabeta. Why do you care?" Her German was impeccable, German born and bred or not. He, even in the dim light, caught site of what appeared to be the mark of where a ring used to lay on her ring finger. Married? Engaged? It wasn't unusual for girls to get married younger, especially if it was for social reasons.

"Nah, just wonder-" He was cut off with a loud 'shush!' from a middle-aged man sitting in the corner. Gilbert glared at him for a moment before finishing. "-ing. You married?" He gestured at her hands.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why are you here?" She, Elizabeta, scanned his ragged clothing for signs of a yellow star, seeing none. She lacked one, also, unlike most of the other occupants. Maybe it was because of her husband, fiancé, whoever. Whoever it was, it was apparent that he was either not here, or had been in the cart and killed somewhere along the way.

"I had a few…disagreements." Gilbert gestured again to outside the cart. "You certainly don't sound German." His voice dropped a bit as a loud banging was heard echoing down from one of the other train compartments. The sound of a door sliding open and the train slowing proved that they were probably at wherever their destination was, as Gilbert heard the sound of footsteps.

The door to their compartment slid open and the small group was unloaded. Elizabeta was taken away to stand with the rest of the females, and Gilbert with those of his gender. Gilbert watched her go, making sure that he himself kept walking, as he had already caught sight of and seen the uniformed soldiers wielding various weapons beating people into the ground for many things, refusing to part with relatives, fighting back, looking at them wrong, anything.

They were all lined up. Gilbert was, as far as he could tell, towards the middle of the line, but he quickly advanced to the very front. As he got closer, he began smelling the fumes and hearing the voices. It was a large pit, a pit that people were being forced to jump into. The bodies piled up, one on top of the other. Gilbert watched with absolute horror as a young woman, probably no more than eighteen was added to the piles.

The force of the line behind him shoved Gilbert forwards, and he stumbled forwards a few steps, bumping into the man in front of him. Leaning around the line, Gilbert paled and quickly returned to his former position. What he saw would haunt him for years to come.

Gilbert didn't have to jump. He got very, very close to the pit, but the soldiers, the leaders, whoever, stopped the group before. They were then led off to experience more horrors, in the barracks, given uniforms, stripped of absolutely everything that made them themselves.

The next time Gilbert saw Elizabeta was when he was working. He had been transferred a few days earlier to this particular section, after having been caught spying, even though the whole thing had been an accident.

The work was long and unending, and Gilbert was tired. He was tired of everything. Running a hand through his short hair, Gilbert watched everybody else work. It wasn't the cleverest or smartest of moves, but at this point the albino could really care less. His feet hurt, he was hungry, and he could list off all the muscles and bones in the human body and still not be finished with what hurt.

It had started snowing regularly a few days prior, so the ground was frozen solid and covered in a fine layer of frost and a few inches of snow, making it even more tedious to walk and work in. The cold seeped through the shoes that Gilbert had traded his gold crowns for, something that he didn't regret, but still wasn't sure if he should have.

"Oi! You! Get a move on!" Gilbert started and turned, subconsciously starting to move again as he was yelled at. He mumbled an unheard apology beneath his breath and kept working.

He only stopped when he felt something brush against his shoulder.

Turning to his right, Gilbert caught sight of the beautiful Elizabeta. Her hair was much shorter now, as everybody had gotten theirs cut off as soon as they arrived, and was tied with a grimy shoelace over one shoulder. She could almost be mistaken for a boy, if it weren't for the…womanly parts connected to her front.

"Don't give up."

Then she turned away, and continued doing whatever she had been doing before she had stopped to comfort Gilbert. Gilbert watched her go, those three words ringing through his head. He wondered how anybody could possibly still have hope, sure, there were a few people in the bunkers who preached love and faith and freedom, but even Gilbert had heard them speaking when not around the 'young ones'. Nobody had hope.

Yet she did. This girl that Gilbert didn't really even know, and had only spoken to twice. Gilbert wondered why she had stopped. He wasn't even sure if he would have stopped if he saw a starving child anymore, the camps turned them all into monsters.

He saw her again at a hanging. They were jostled next to each other, shoulders brushing against each other. Complete silence reigned over the camp as the two men were led up to the makeshift gallows. Gilbert had heard that they had been caught stealing food, something that he wouldn't blame anybody for doing nowadays.

The two men stood side by side, neither crying, or really showing any emotions at all. The executioner offered extra food to any prisoner who offered to help, hundreds volunteered.

The only reason Gilbert didn't was because she didn't. She, instead of raising her thin arm, crossed them over her chest and glared. Glared at the executioner, and glared at the fellow prisoners.

When they were asked to remove their hats, the entire crowd moved as one, even the annoyed brunette whipped the cap off her head. Gilbert followed suit, softly smiling and turning away.

They were released to go eat after that, and Gilbert followed Elizabeta. Technically, men and women were separated, but Gilbert rarely spoke and had never finished his quizzing whilst in the train.

The dinner, if it could even be called such, was a thin, watery soup and ancient bread. Elizabeta plopped down onto the ground and inhaled hers, all womanly manners completely disappeared.

Gilbert crouched next to her and watched her shove the bread into her mouth, hoarding it just like all the other prisoners. Turns out she really was human after all.

"You never answered my question."

"Mm?" She said, swallowing the last of her food. "I guess I didn't. Yes, I am married."

"Is he here?" Gilbert asked, encompassing the entire camp with an arc of his spoon.

She shook her head. "No, I haven't seen him since, well, since then. You?" She looked at him.

"Me? Mein gott, no!" Gilbert laughed, his voice standing out against the quiet murmurs of the prisoners. A few guards turned his direction. Gilbert waved, most already knew him by looks, and his number by heart. He certainly had the scars on his back to prove it. They glared at him some more, and Gilbert, getting the message, stood and left the not-German girl alone.

The last time he saw her while in the camp was when the Allies bombed the camp. The thundering booms interrupted him while he worked, and he and his fellow inmates stopped what they were doing to turn and watch the bombers fly overhead.

The bombs dropped at the edge of the camp, and the entire place went into an uproar faster than one could blink. The outer walls of the camp had been knocked down, causing the guards to have to suppress the prisoners who were there at the time.

The ground shook again. Gilbert wondered whether the Allies knew about what was going on, and if so, for how long. Gilbert had seen countless people come and go, every age and gender brutally killed. He didn't like to think about the mass graves that he probably walked on top of daily.

Dropping the wood he had been holding, Gilbert craned his neck to watch the planes. The whole attack lasted less than fifteen minutes, but the damage had been done. More prisoners gathered to watch, almost as though the bombs were replacements for fireworks.

"Could almost be considered pretty." Gilbert started and turned to the side, the brunette standing next to him also watching the skies. Turning back, he nodded.

"Ja, I suppose you're right."

"By the way." Gilbert turned back to look at her. "I'm Hungarian." When he gave her a questioning look, she replied again. "Back on the train, you mentioned that I didn't sound German."

"Ah~"

She nodded and peeled away from him. He watched her _skip_ over to the 'kitchen' and grab some bread, shoving it into her mouth as fast as she could. Gilbert shook his head as he watched her go. She was certainly a fiery spirit.

The camp was shut down two years after Gilbert had arrived. The bombs that dropped were loud, and the ground shook. It almost seemed like a dream, after two years of a lot of work and little to no food.

One would think that the Allies would have helped all the refugees, but many died on the street after escaping the camps. They didn't have anywhere to go, still unsure of what country they were in and, even if they knew, where. Some didn't have family left, or, such as in Gilbert's case, could no longer contact them. His brother had joined the army, and was dead for all Gilbert knew.

Gilbert was on the streets for a long time after his days spent at the camp. He didn't have anywhere to go, he had already been not quite welcome at his home before he had been taken away.

The first thing he did after earning a decent amount of money was to buy a coat. It was something that seemed almost silly now, but after having gone dressed in thin rags during the winter, Gilbert wasn't going to go anywhere without one. A small yellow chick-which he dubbed Glbird-started riding around on his shoulder, cheeping into his ear. The soles of his shoes were basically worn to nothing, and he could feel the cobbled roads beneath his feet as he walked.

Eventually, after who knows how long, Gilbert was back in Germany. He chose to keep his hood up while there, still not quite sure how to go about returning. In all honesty, he didn't stay for long, just stopped by his old house, which had been taken over by other families, to pick up a few trinkets and such that had been left there.

He had never been to Austria.

Walking down the mostly empty road at eleven in the morning in a worn jacket and shoes had become something basically normal to Gilbert. Running into strange situations, too. Lucky situations, though? Never.

So, when he kicked a small round stone down the road, watching it clatter down the street, the last thing he expected was to be drawn out of his thoughts by a familiar voice.

"Well, fancy that."

Gilbert stopped and turned. She was leaning against the fence of the house across the road, holding a broom in one hand. He hair was longer now, nearly as long as it had been before. The house was well kept, and had a small garden that it appeared she had been tending before catching site of Gilbert.

Gilbert stood for a moment, unsure of what to do, before quickly crossing the empty street and stopping in front of her.

"Fancy that indeed."

She smiled softly, taking in his rather rugged appearance. She was wearing a green dress that looked like it wasn't insanely expensive, but certainly something that Gilbert couldn't afford.

"Well. I never did get your name."

Gilbert laughed slightly. "It's Gilbert."

"Hm, Gilbert, you look quite," she made a great show of looking him up and down, "Haphazard. Care for a biscuit?" Elizabeta gestured with her thumb in a very unladylike manner over her shoulder at the house.

"I'd love one."

The Hungarian smiled again and pushed herself off the fence. A part of the fence that Gilbert hadn't noticed swung open as she pushed it and turned away, letting Gilbert follow her. It was strange, seeing her in a situation that wasn't dirty, grimy, and filled with the aura of imminent doom.

The house was well furnished, and Gilbert could smell food. The albino followed her into what was later apparent as a dining room. Gilbert was willing to bet that if had been anybody else, they would have just waved him on. But Elizabeta is Elizabeta.

"Mind if we have a third, Roderich?"

Elizabeta leaned around the doorframe as she asked her question. Gilbert leaned around her. So this was the mysterious husband?

Roderich turned, flipping his newspaper down. He raised an eyebrow at the site of both of them leaning around the door.

"I don't particularly mind. But you have to go fetch Feliciano."

Elizabeta nodded and leaned back, leaving Gilbert alone in the unfamiliar household. She headed away and Gilbert heard her walking up a flight of stairs.

Gilbert wandered into the nice dining room and pulled out a chair across from Roderich.

"Feliciano? Doesn't sound German. Or Hungarian." One could at least give him some credit for not bringing up the weather.

Roderich set the newspaper down and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "That's because it isn't. His parents were killed."

"Ah." Gilbert picked up a fork, much to Roderich's annoyance, and started twirling it in his hand.

Silence reigned until a quick pitter-patter of footsteps was heard and a small copper-haired boy raced into the room.

"Do we get pasta? Do we, do we?" His Italian accent was obvious in the broken German that he spoke in. He-Feliciano, Gilbert assumed-was wearing a loose white shirt and brown pants. His feet were lacking shoes, and a stray curl floated and bounced around as he leapt into the chair next to Gilbert's.

"No, Feli, we don't. We had pasta last night." Elizabeta said, her voice floating in from the kitchen.

Feliciano pouted and put his elbows on the table.

"Elbows off the table, Feliciano."

Feliciano then noticed the raggety Gilbert sitting next to him.

"Ve! Who are you, Mister?"

Gilbert laughed. "Mister? Thanks but no. I'm Gilbert. Nice to meet you, Feliciano."

Feliciano oo-ed and took in Gilberts appearance. "Can I touch the birdie?"

"Sure." Gilbert pried Gilbird off his coat collar and set the bird in Feliciano's cupped hands. Feliciano looked at the small fluff ball in awe. Gilbird gave Gilbird a suspiciously annoyed look.

"Blueberry or raspberry, Feli?"

Feliciano started and turned in the direction of the kitchen. "Um…raspberry, please!" Gilbert reached down and lifted the canary out of Feliciano's reach. Gilbert settled himself in Gilbert's silver hair.

"Can I have raspberry too?" Gilbert said as Elizabeta wandered back in and set a scone on Feliciano's plate. She glared at him and muttered something about the British guy who lived a few houses down. Gilbert would later learn what that meant.

Elizabeta plopped down into her seat next to Roderich, then leaning forwards, elbows on table. Roderich glared at them.

"So…Gilbert…what've you been up to since..." She didn't finish her sentence, but Gilbert understood.

He shrugged. "Nothin' much. Don't really have any family left."

"Did you before?" Roderich huffed about 'being pushy'.

"Ja, a brother. But he…he joined the army. That's how I ended up there, I told him not to."

"Does he look like you?" Elizabeta tilted her head, possibly wondering if she had maybe seen him.

"Him? No, he looks like a tank. Blond, blue eyes. Nazi poster child." Gilbert set the fork he had been fiddling with down and snagged a cookie from where the tray had been sitting on the table.

Feliciano sniffed and rubbed his eyes quickly with a sleeve.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Feli."

More sniffing. "S'okay."

Gilbert awkwardly patted the childlike young man on the head. He looked to be slightly younger than Ludwig was. He looked at Elizabeta and Roderich questioningly.

"He was separated from his older brother, Lovino, a few years ago."

"Ah."

They chatted for a few more hours, reminiscing, Gilbert didn't know how long, at least until it was starting to get dark outside. Elizabeta and Feliciano had long since cleared the various dishes that had been brought out over the day to the kitchen. Gilbert stood, his chair scraping against the floor.

"I suppose I should get going." He headed over to the door.

"Where are you going to go?" Asked Elizabeta.

Gilbert shrugged. "Nowhere."

"The shed's open."

Gilbert opened his mouth, closed it again, then laughed.

"I suppose it's not heated?"

"Psh, it's a _shed_."

Gilbert laughed again and turned away.

"I'll keep that in mind."


End file.
